Captive Princess( Sophia Romano) novel Chapter 11

Vincent walked out of the family meeting in Chicago and loosened his tie. Three straight days of negotiations over a weapons smuggling route were finally over. The Torrino family’s territory was his.

He turned on his phone, which had been off for the entire seventy-two hours.

Countless unread messages flooded the screen. Ninety-nine from Isabella, and one from Sophia.

Vincent’s thumb moved on its own, tapping on Sophia’s message.

[Transfer Received: $873,000]

[Memo: Settlement for medical, lodging, and miscellaneous expenses.]

Nothing else.

Vincent’s brow furrowed. He almost laughed, a humorless sound of frustration. His long fingers tapped out a reply.

[You think I need your money? Do we really need to settle accounts like this?]

He sent the message and stared at the screen for ten minutes.

Usually, Sophia replied the second he texted, sometimes just to send a single, defiant punctuation mark.

This time, the chat window was utterly silent.

Vincent dialed her number.

"We're sorry, the number you have dialed is not in service..."

A sterile, automated voice answered.

Vincent froze. Her phone was off?

An image of Sophia sleeping flashed in his mind: her curled lashes casting shadows on her cheeks, her red lips slightly parted as she snuggled deeper into his arms.

A small smile touched his lips at the thought.

He tapped on her profile picture—a proud, aloof Persian cat, its blue eyes looking down on the world. Just like her.

His finger brushed across the screen before he sent a final message: [Back in New York tomorrow night. Be at the airfield to pick me up.]

Still, nothing.

Vincent put his phone down and dialed his right-hand man, Marco. "What's the status on the item I had you track?"

"Boss, it's confirmed. The pearl necklace will be at the Sotheby's auction tonight. It's the one that belonged to Miss Sophia's late mother. No doubt about it."

"Get the car ready."

An hour later, Vincent arrived at the Sotheby's auction in Manhattan. He wore a custom-tailored dark suit, his gaze cold and distant behind his gold-rimmed glasses as he brushed off the advances of several socialites.

When the pearl necklace was brought on stage, the room buzzed with anticipation.

"You like her?" Vincent's voice was like ice.

Marco's hands trembled on the steering wheel, and the car nearly swerved into the guardrail.

"I..."

"The truth."

Marco took a deep breath. "Who wouldn't be drawn to someone like Miss Sophia? But don't worry, Boss. I know she only has eyes for you..."

He gave a bitter smile. "So I've just... admired her from afar. I would never cross a line."

Vincent's expression softened almost imperceptibly.

But then Marco suddenly mustered his courage. "But Boss... I hope you can treat her better."

"..."

"You can't protect Miss Isabella one moment and be tender with Miss Sophia the next. She deserves a love that's all or nothing."

"Protect Isabella one moment and be tender with Sophia the next?" Vincent narrowed his eyes. "What are you implying?"

Since he'd already started, Marco went all in.

"Exactly what it sounds like! Boss, I've always wanted to ask—who do you really love? Miss Isabella, or Miss Sophia?"